


anywhere i go you go, my dear

by EffingEden



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Cutting, Gunplay, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/pseuds/EffingEden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is boring and Jim is crazy, but its their own warped version of love</p>
            </blockquote>





	anywhere i go you go, my dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nejem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nejem/gifts).



> I don't know guns. Pretend this fic is more gun-savvy.
> 
> Written for a picture prompt over on sherlockbbc-fic.

Jim had been staring at the bullet for the last half hour, rolling it between his fingers. I was lying on his bed, naked and bleeding and exhausted. He was sat up, cross-legged and utterly focused. The house was so quiet, I tensed when Jim spoke. “Strange how such a little thing is going to destroy something magnificent.” His dark eyes were blown wide open, his tone slow and wondering. Hypnotised by the small bit of metal between his fingers. “I should have it cast in gold and studded with diamonds. It seems so plebeian-“

 

“You’d only mangle your gun,” I murmured, taking care to keep my tone level. I never liked it when he was like this, all dreamy and lost in his own depths. Childlike and innocent and his most terrifying. “’Something magnificent’ – that for your Virgin, then?”

 

His gaze moves, finally drawn away from the bullet to fix on me. It’s difficult not to be cowed by that soulless stare, so hungry and hollow. Feels like he’s peeling me away with his mind, turning my skin from muscle like a first time lover would undress his shy partner. He’s done that before with his pen knife. I’m sure he blunted the blade before he carved his sick message on my chest. I hold my breath as his eyes flay me, waiting for his mood to flip.

 

A snort. “For that, I’m going to make you dig it out and wear it on a chain after I’m done.” He reached his hand down, moving slow so I could see what he was doing, and had plenty of time to evade or stop him. I did neither and hissed in pain when he jabbed the nose of the bullet into the mess he’d made of my chest. “I want it to hang here.” He dragged the smooth metal over open skin in absent patterns, a dark leer twisting his lip as I struggled against the pain and the need to shove his hand away from me.

 

“Your kill,” I managed to grind out from between clenched teeth.

 

It made him laugh. “Oh, honey, you’re such a slow learner.” The mocking warmth burned away and his next words were hard and sharp. “You’re mine and I’ll decorate you however I please...” He drew the bullet away and looked it over again. My blood clung to it in an uneven coat. “Baptized. Now I can’t miss. Fucking poetic, really.”  

 

He slid the bloody bullet back into the magazine of his gun and pushed it back into place. Madman with a loaded gun. Stupid, I know, but seeing the weapon in his hands, knowing his mercurial whims... Lord help me, my breath hitched and my blood warmed and rushed down to my lower stomach, my cock giving an interested twitch.

 

“Predicable,” Jim bemoaned, of course noticing at once, poking me hard in the side with the gun’s muzzle, more in annoyance than play. “Every time with the gun, I should just shoot you to break you of your morbid fascination. Least then you’d be a bit more interesting.”

 

And he hovers there on the brink of doing it. I can see it linger there in his eyes. He weighs my life skills against my entertainment value, thinks for several seconds that. In these moments, these eternal heartbeats, his is a god. My voice rasps as I speak. “Am I more interesting when I’m dieing for you?”

 

He grins. Wild and hungry and teeth. He leans closer and hover over me, half an inch above, my whole world. He knows it and basks. “Always, my dear.”

 

He is teeth and ravenous eyes, and I taste my blood in his mouth, and I love it.

 

\---

 

I couldn’t do as he had ordered. People came and took his body away. The bullet would have left his skull anyway. No necklace. The heart shape he carved on my chest bleeds and bleeds, and hurt like a bitch and its reddening around the edges because that sick fuck went and licked it. Infected it.

 

 _Fucking poetic, really._

 

I went back to his place, to pack up and wipe down before I set it on fire. I find a small photo under his pillow, on the side I usually end up on when...

 

Jim doesn’t do photos. His personas do photos, but they are never him. Just masks.

 

This, though... was that the white wall of my flat? The back of that scretty calendar that my nan had sent me? That shirt... I’d pulled it, ripped those buttons off and he’d lamped me. That had been four, five weeks ago now. He’d planned his own death since then.

 

 I put it in my pocket, rub my hands over my face and tip petrol out onto the bed that was still stained with our come and sweat and blood.


End file.
